


Bubblegum Magic

by theoryeleven



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, High School, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-01-04 10:32:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18341888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoryeleven/pseuds/theoryeleven
Summary: His name is Damien and he is fifteen, he lives in the school dorms, his father is gone, and his mother is too. All he can remember is flames and a horrible distortion of a human. He has no mentionable family. He is alone. He’s been alone for seven years, even though he wishes he wasn’t. By maybe the worst twist of fate he is now the most powerful mage of his generation, heir to the Abelan throne, the highest mage position. The same title of the man who killed his mother.And he doesn’t want it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My name is Henry and this is my first work so I would absolutely love it if y’all would leave constructive criticism or any nice comments. Please be kind!

Chapter 1

 

       The smell of tamarind fills the air and sunlight filters through large windows. A soft wind gently ruffles hair and papers alike. A young boy sits quietly by the windows, thoughts drifting as familiarity settles in. This is the boy’s third year in this particular room and he is quite accustomed to his surroundings but not the new faces in this surroundings. He shifts uncomfortably as more students enter the the pleasantly warm room. They bring with them their own special magics. Smells flood his senses with every new whispered spell. Cloves, bubblegum, rainwater, cloves are the most pleasant, born of good intentions and harmless wishes. Unpleasant smells also filter in though. They make his nose twitch and his hair stand on end with the implications of such smells. One can only have magics like that with malevolence and sinister intentions. The boy lets it pass and instead looks at the paper planes whizzing above his head. Planes that have messages,gossip, confessions of love and whatnot. He receives no notes and sends no notes. He simply sits and watches. The bell rings and the planes and magics disappear as the teacher walks in and class starts.

<>

       The quiet child makes his way through the hallway and mumbles two small sound bubbles into existence. The bright and pearly bubbles nestle into his ears. Sound fills his ears as the tiny glossy orbs spin and the scent of cotton candy flows around him. His own spell smell mingles with others as he walks along in tune with his music. The boy’s thoughts jostle and move with his feet. Unaware to the world he walks on, other students pass him by rushing to a singular point in the hallway. Unbeknownst to him two students had started a fight.  
        And he had walked into it.  
       The smell of a storm was in the air, tinged with vinegar. Magics were flying left and right but evaporating before they hit the other students. The two fighters circle each other, unaware of the quiet child trying to get out of the now warded circle of people. He is growing more anxious as more people surround him. Magic was thick in the air. As he draws heaving breaths he chokes and staggers back into the thick of the fight. The first fighter doesn't notice him as he ducks to avoid a physical punch, the boy taking the punch instead. The boy falls as he's hit, clutching his bloodied face. The fight goes on. Spells fly he struggles to rise, his head spins. Blood slowly drips to the floor, running down his face in a thin stream, and staining his white shirt. He stands shakily. The boys behind him are still fighting. A spell goes wide and strikes the already hurt intruder. It rips through his body and shakes his soul.  
He screams.  
        His magic gathers around him in response to the arcane attack, overflowing and spilling from his palms, curling through and around his fingers. He lets his control slip and his magic explodes with the force of his pain and anger. It resounds through the hallway with a thunderclap, shattering windows and lights. The duelists are thrown into the surrounding circle of fallen magelings. The boy falls to his knees. He feels tired, his magic use and the hit exhausting him. His anger dims as he sees the destruction he caused and the teachers who had come to stop the fight. They all have identical looks of horror and shock. Including his favorite, Mrs. Abernathy. He feels tears slip past his eyes as he collapses into the middle of a halo of unconscious magelings.

        He wakes up in the infirmary with his head bandaged and wards drawn on his skin, a precaution to keep him from lashing out in his sleep.. or at the nurses on purpose. He groans as the memories rush back, the hit, the spell, and his wrecked control. He looks around at the ugly baby vomit green curtains and the matching scratchy bedsheets. Fear grips him as the curtain is pulled back and he has to fight the momentary urge to run. He’s in no condition to run anyway after that magical burst. The woman that enters is beautiful in the way an art piece is beautiful, wonderfully sculpted features but little emotion. She clears her throat and catches the boys attention.  
        “Hello Mr. Cirillo, my name is Mrs. Acema and I’m here to tell you a few things.” she says  
        He stays silent, listening, scared of the next thing she might say.  
        “I’m your new teacher, I’ll be helping you control your power or sealing it if you wish.”  
        He can’t believe his ears, he starts to think healing magic must also have some hallucinogenic properties.  
        “You’ll be part of an elite group of magelings that will be learning more than average stu-” He cuts her off.  
        “Hold the phone ma’am, I blew up the hallway and hurt a bunch of people. Aren’t I being punished?”  
        The smell of pear drifts off her as she stares him down.  
        “If you had let me finish I would’ve told you that” she says crisply.  
        “The class also serves as your punishment, but the main punishment will be the community service for three months and you will be under heavy scrutiny by the Mage Council as well as the academy school board. You’re lucky the consequences weren’t worse given how severe the damage was but the school board ruled it as an unfortunate loss of control in a distressing situation” she pauses and mulls her next thoughts over, “I hope to see that you are more in control later. As you’ll be in quite a few distressing situations in the next few years” she adds ominously. His eyes widen and he nods. Perhaps it won’t be so bad he thinks.  
         “Any questions?”  
         “Uh, no?”  
         “Perfect.” And then she gets up, pausing before puts the curtain back,  
         “Get well soon, Mr. Cirillo.” With a flick of her coffee colored hand the curtain closed.  
         He sits there baffled at the short exchange, the mantra of ‘what the fuck’ replaying in his head. Given the situation, he expected worse, blowing up a hallway isn’t usually taken lightly. The last time someone had lost control like that, they had been brought in front of the Mage Council and been found guilty of magical terrorism. The Mage Council didn’t take theses things lightly after the tragedy a few years back where a mage tried to summon an Old One. Old Ones, the most powerful beings of this universe, that gave us magic and control who gets what. They turned them into a monster. They rampaged until the most powerful mage of that generation took the monster on with the help of their astral. The mage died in the fight and the astral, left masterless, left this plane, but they managed to weaken it just enough so that the Mage Council could destroy it.

<>

          His name is Damien and he is fifteen, he lives in the school dorms, his father is gone, and his mother is too. All he can remember is flames and a horrible distortion of a human. He has no mentionable family. He is alone. He’s been alone for seven years, even though he wishes he wasn’t. By maybe the worst twist of fate he is now the most powerful mage of his generation, heir to the Abelan throne, the highest mage position. The same title of the man who killed his mother.  
And he doesn’t want it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

       Damien awoke to the strong glow of the wards on his skin and the overwhelming smell of cotton candy. His entire body was glowing as the wards fought against his accidental magic use. He grasped his head as a headache came on and the wards drawn on his bronze skin started to fade. He was unsure how long he’d been there for as he looked around the perpetually puke-colored room. Like baby vomit, he thought and chuckled. It was still dark in the room as it was only three in the morning. Such an unholy hour not even the sun would make an appearance until well past. He smiles and shifts the scratchy blanket off of himself then turns on the lamp beside his bed, Damien hates the dark and especially hates the dark after the nightmare he had just had, flames as high as buildings, a thing that looked like a human but clearly wasn’t, and screams, from everyone, including him. It was a recurring dream and it was extremely vivid. It shook him to his core and made fear curl in his mind, the monster especially, it looked familiar somehow. That fucking scared him. A lot.

       As he tries to shake off the nightmare he hears something from behind his curtains a soft rustling, probably one of the other patients, he thought. The rustling steadily grew louder until it wasn’t rustling, it was someone throwing stuff. One such thrown item flew through his curtain and he had to duck into his blanket as a metal clang went through the room. He looked at the thing thrown into his part of the room, it was a metal statue of a cat with wings and symbols drawn on it. The person outside his curtains, was still throwing things, with more vigor now.

      They were looking for something, that much he was sure of. He slowly shifted out of the bed but kept the blanket wrapped around himself in case his magic flared and the wards lit up. The smell of citrus hit him after he crept past the curtains. He shuffled along the wall in his blanket burrito until he saw the light of a lantern and things hastily being thrown left and right. Fire red hair and ridiculously green clothes caught his eye from behind the flurry of paper and desk things. He slid closer, careful not to alert them to his presence. They just kept throwing stuff. Damien was pretty sure they were either the worst spy ever or just a dumb kid. The throwing stops and they turn around looking directly at Damien. Dumb kid then, if the look of shock was any judge. It was a girl too judging by the clothes and un-flat-chested-ness, but never assume. She recovered from her shock quickly and started blubbering a story that was absolutely a lie, until she looked at his blanket. Her eyes narrowed and she stood straighter, like she was trying to pull rank. He in turn also stood straighter which shifted the blanket off of himself. Out came the wards and she grinned.  
      “So what do ya think you’re doing here little un’?” she says sickly sweet, thick accent showing.  
      He says a curse “ What are you doing here?” his voice drips with sarcasm.  
      She grins impossibly harder, teeth showing and hair wild. He stands his ground.  
      “Well I happen ta be lookin’ fer somethin’, have ya seen it?” she says  
      “It happens ta look sort’a like this?” she holds up her middle finger and starts to turn away. He catches her arm, fire in his eyes. She whirls back, twisting his arm behind him and slamming him to the floor. So maybe a spy, he thinks.  
      “listen here ya grabby idiot, I’m going to leave an’ yer not gonna tell anyone. Or else I’ll put an ice spike between yer eyes an’ seein’ as yer all warded up ya can’t fight back”  
      Damien just lays there, completely at her mercy. His arm twisted sharply.  
      “Now tell me,” she growls “ will ya comply?”  
      She grinds his head firmly into the ground as he refuses to answer. She jerks his arm farther behind him, near the breaking point. He yelps.  
      “Fine, just let me up” He grits out.  
      She lets him arm go but doesn’t let him up. Firmly seated on his back and making it hard to breath for him she draws a symbol onto his back. The smell of citrus fills the air as it takes effect. A paralysis charm.  
      “She gets off of him and swaggers back to the desk, hips swinging. He rolls his eyes and tries to fight the spell but all it achieves is more discomfort and lots of grunting. She grabs a few papers and goes to the window.  
      “No hard feelings, mouse” she says and jumps out, cool air left in her stead. His eyes bulge and his mind occupies the place of what-the-fuck again.

<>

      The nurses don’t come until hours later. Where they find him paralyzed and surrounded by thrown objects. They scold him for some reason, like he used a paralysis charm on himself after messing up the room. While they undid the overly complicated paralysis charm he sat thinking of whether he would heed the red-headed girls words. Although he didn’t know her name there couldn’t be that many heavy-accented redheads in the school and he was very petty. On the other hand his arm still hurts and he really didn’t want to find out whether or not her ice spikes would go anywhere near his cranium. Decision, decisions, he thought. The nurses clambered about to pick up the mess the girl had made. The winged cat still sat in Damien’s bed next to him, wings poking uncomfortably into his side. He jostled it with his still numb fingers. He slid it farther into the covers closer to him to keep for later. His conscience said it was bad to steal but the other part said it looked cool. He went with the one that said it looked cool.

     Eventually, around noon, the curtains to his space were opened and he saw that he was the only one who occupied this room. No wonder no one helped him last night. The door to the spacious room opened and Mrs. Acema stepped in. The well lit room accentuated her emotionless features, she stood ramrod straight and held a clipboard that looked like it had seen better days. He wriggled a bit under her scrutiny as she somehow talked to a nurse and looked directly at him the entire time. The nurse nodded but held a sour expression. Mrs. Acema took the distance to him in large, graceful steps keeping eye contact the entire time. At this point he was vaguely intimidated and maybe even a little scared. She reached him and gave him a look that could freeze a volcano.  
     “I hear you had a little incident last night.” she says  
     “Yes, definitely, it was all my fault.” he replies in a tone that apparently she didn’t like because her glare gets impossibly worse.  
     “Well, that is not the matter at hand, I will be escorting you out.” she pauses, “to your new dorm where you will be staying for the remainder of your time at this school.”

     She makes it sound like he’ll die before he makes it to the end of his school days, which is entirely possible given how long the time he has left in school is. He just nods, not wanting to be the object of her death glare anymore. Mrs. Acema calls the nurse over.  
     “Take off the wards” she says curtly to the nurse.  
     The nurse looks offended to be talked to like that but does as she’s told. She draws a symbol in the air and concentrates. The wards lift slowly off Damien’s skin with the feeling of water gliding over his skin, they circle into the air and glow like mini suns. The nurse says a dismissal and the wards dissipate and fall like mist. Its beautiful and he is wonderstruck. The nurse nods stiffly and leaves. Mrs. Acema looks at him.  
     “Get your things together, we have to get another person from here” she says and leaves. Damien sits there for a bit until he gets his wits about himself. He slips his shoes and socks on and slides his backpack on. He remembers the winged cat and slips it into his bag. He leaves the curtained space and heads for Mrs. Acema.

     They walk through the halls in silence, Damien lags behind a bit to look out the windows. It’s a pretty day out. The sun is shining over the lush green lawn of the campus and plays through the leaves of trees, eventually catching the flowers and whatnot that the gardeners put in. He greatly enjoys the outdoors. They stop at room 306, well more like Mrs. Acema stopped and he just happened to bump into her. She shoots him a quick glare and then walks into the room. She is just full of glares he thinks. She couldn’t have been older than 35, why is she so angry all the time? He stops that line of thinking as he sees the boy they’re picking up. He’s tall and dark haired, tanned and gorgeous but unfortunately he happens to be the boy that gave him his wicked shiner that the nurse felt needed to stay.  
     “You!” he says, well, shouts.  
     “You?” the other boy says  
     “Your stupid fight made me lose control!”  
     “Oh, Oh my gods, it’s you, wait a minute before you explode the room, I gotta get my stuff and leave. Thanks Ace but I got better stuff to do.” he grabs his things until Mrs. Acema steps in front of him.  
     “That wasn’t a request Mr. Reed. You were fighting on campus, by all rights they should’ve expelled you. However they see something in you that I clearly don’t but if you keep trying my patience the I swear to you that I will talk to the board and get you kicked out” she accentuates her seriousness with one of her favorite expressions, the glare. He backs off but gives her an equally poisonous look.  
     “How do I know you’re not bluffing” he says unwisely  
     “Do I look like I’m bluffing Mr. Reed?”  
     He is quiet for a second  
     “Not really”  
     “Then let’s go” she says  
     Damien was spooked by the exchange and said nothing more to the other boy but gave him a look worthy of Mrs. Acema. He left the room with his new teacher and they waited till the other boy emerged.  
     “My name isn’t Mr. Reed, Ace, it’s Daniel” he says as he comes out.  
     Of course to fit his horrible attitude, he has a leather jacket and perfectly quaffed hair. Of course, for him to be otherwise would be against the universal laws of douchiness. Damien wonders how long he can be an ass before Mrs. Acema broke him.  
     “Reed for you though, timebomb.”  
     Damien swears he sees their icy chaperone crack a smile, but that couldn’t be true, she’s far too sour. She rights herself almost immediately though and takes them out of the building to another one. It’s possible the worst looking building Damien had ever seen, paint peeling in chunks, shutters hanging on by a stubborn screw or two, woodwork that had seen better days maybe a couple hundred years ago.  
    “This will be your dorm, building 207. It’s usually just for storage but the board wanted this class away from the rest.”  
    She pulls the door open and it sounds like murder.  
    The three of them walk through the building until they reach room 12 and she swivels on the dangerously creaky floor. Damien is just struggling to not crash down to the first floor, how is she doing extra, he thinks to himself.  
    “This will be your room, both of you” she says and then exits, no explanations,  
leaving them to gape at each other. Reed is the first to say no and tries the other doors. Each time he tried another it glowed, a name or two showed up, and he was shocked. Literally shocked, with lightning. All the doors were warded. Damien barely contained his laughter from Reed’s botched attempts at escaping being roommates. Until he saw their room, it was filled to the brim with boxes.

    This would be a long night, he thought. He was right.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

       A cool breeze blows through the room, ruffling the curtains. It smells like wood smoke and promise. Damien sits alone in his room surrounded by the boxes he and Reed couldn’t lift, his things laying in the corner that he and Reed had managed to clear. His magic shifts beneath his skin and the smell of cotton candy fills the small space. It comforts him and cools his temper. The magic didn’t work but the spell smells still came out when they had tried to tap their magic. Reed had left after getting frustrated with the boxes and how he couldn’t use magic in the building. He gets up from his grumbling spot to pace.  
      He walks from bed to bed, thoughts in a jumbled mess. Damien hates it, the pervasive pea green color that was absolutely horrible, his goblin of a roommate, and certainly the stone cold Mrs. Acema. He runs a hand through his caramel colored hair and sighs. He’s not going to have hair by the end of this year if this keeps up, he thinks. His two-toned eyes, one ringed by a bruise, drifted until they settled on the vast field dotted with trees outside his window. He contemplates going outside and wonders how far the wards extend. He sighs and resigns himself to clearing the remaining clutter.

<>

       Damien was really getting tired of dusting and breathing in old cleaner from the closet, its expiration date had passed about fifty years ago. The lemony-bleach smell tickled his nose and dominated the room even with the windows open wide. He had finished cleaning the ugly green walls of their ominous stains, the wardrobes and closets of unrelenting cobwebs, and the floor of all the odd paraphernalia. He was covered in gods knows what and was sweating like a sinner in church.  
       It was definitely time for a shower.  
       Of course that was when Reed decided to come back. Three crisp knocks punctuated his return, right before he flung open the door. His expression was thunderous and his clothes were soaked, he looked like he had gone ten rounds with a water nymph and lost. It almost made Damien feel bad for him, almost. He found, instead of a sympathetic statement, he couldn’t stop laughing.  
       Reed was going red, which only fueled Damien’s bubbling laughter. His skin was now an ugly shade of plum and tears were streaming down Damien’s face.  
Damien, without thinking says,  
       “You smell like swamp ass”, wheezing his way through each word.  
       Reed’s sharp wit fails him and his anger piqued.  
       His spell smell fills the small room, the smells of rainwater and ozone permeate off of him. He smelled like a thunderstorm and had the body language to match. Damien’s own spell smell began to manifest at the threat of a fight, his power shifting under his skin. The wards on the walls glowed a bright blue as the tension became almost palpable. Damien was the first to break eye contact, as the wards gave a brief warning shrill as they reached a dangerous level. The way wards worked was interesting, they absorbed the magical energies of those under them and gather the energy like a rain barrel, at a certain level they got too full and instead of overflowing they concentrate it into a counter attack at the mage or mages fueling it. They were controlled by their maker and the magic drained off naturally at a low absorption rate, which was determined by the maker. In high absorption rates they could be hazardous, however.  
       The warning sound was there for a reason and as Reed poured more energy into his fit, the more the wards screamed.  
       “Reed, Stop” Damien says cautiously  
       “Why, afraid?”  
       “We really don’t have time for childish acts of bravado, gods, look” Damien gestures around the room, the swirling wards were glowing a dangerous whitish-blue.  
       Reed’s eyes widen, his spell smell lessens. The wards were on the cusp of sending out a painful flare of recycled magic as it absorbed the residual magics. They stood in silence as if a noise would set off the wards defensive capabilities. Damien had never been ward-stung and he never intended to, this was a bit too close for comfort. Judging by the way Reed was standing deathly still, he was thinking the same thing. The collective sigh of relief was enough to break the tension.  
Reed looked at him like he had just punched his unicorn. To be fair, Damien thought, if he didn’t want to hear he smelled like the wrong end of a Kelpie then he should have taken a bath before coming back. Damien, if nothing, was a reasonably honest person. Reed opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a knock. His raised hand went from the air to his temple.  
        “Of course, why not?” Reed says “Ugh, just get the door”  
        “After you, goblin” says Damien in return, rooted in his place by the beds.  
        “What did you call me, timebomb?” He says in a cold, cutting tone.  
        Another knock resounds through the room. Damien sighs and goes for the door. He opens it with as much gusto as a man on death row. Shockingly it isn’t the magic police or the terrifying Mrs. Acema. There were two people at the door, a short girl and a tall boy. The boy had ebony skin and long dreads put up in a ponytail. The girl was white, skin the color of cream with red hair. The girl who had attacked him in the infirmary. The boy was new though.  
        “Are you kidding me, no of course not” he says, then adds, mumbling “there’s only one redheaded hooligan in this gods-forsaken school”  
        Her glare is enough to shut him up as she pushes past him to sit on the left bed. Her companion frowns at her and then turns to him,  
        “Sorry, about that mate, we’re you’re next door neighbors!” he says in a happy tone, as if his partner wasn’t glaring daggers at both of them. His voice was nice, very soothing, like if a river was personified. A very energetic and british river.  
        “Oh Darn, almost forgot our names, it’s hard cheese to forget names in a first meeting”  
        “I’m sorry, what? What do you mean hard cheese?” Chimes in Reed, the look of absolute confusion mirrored on Damien.  
        “Don’t kid, mate, you know hard cheese? Bad luck?” says the enigmatic british giant.  
        “Gods above we’re going to need a cryptographer for this one” Reed remarks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. This elicits a chortle from Damien’s clinic-attacker.  
        “Now aren’t you knees up, Penelope I was trying to introduce us and you queered my pitch”  
        “She what?” says Damien  
        “It means I messed up his plans, ya ninny” She pauses “and I told ya that’s not my name, it’s Aero”  
        “Whatever, no need to throw a paddy”  
        At this point Damien was to confused to even comment. He glanced at Reed, who apparently recovered at a fantastic rate; he looked cool as a cucumber, not a bit confused. The girl, Penelope, Aero, whatever, stood and turned to him.  
        “I’m Aero and this is Boo, we’re next door so keep sound to a minimum or I’ll come in here an’ beat ya more senseless than you already are.” she says and then breezes past Damien and Reed, pausing at the door.  
        “Oh, an’ this one’s mine” she points to Boo and then waggles her finger “No touchin’”, Boo seems to take it all in stride. She exits. He gives one last smile before following, gently closing the door in his stead. Damien is flabbergasted, what just happened? A quick glance at Reed showed nothing, his face was the perfect example of coolness. What a hobgoblin, thought damien. What a bunch of hobgoblins, he thought.  
         If Damien was a nice person he might have had the control to stop himself from saying something rude to Reed. Alas, he had no such control.  
         “So, where did you find a swamp to jump in on school grounds?”  
         Reed’s eyes snapped to his, anger blazing. He had the forethought to control his magic at least, however Damien couldn’t say the same for his obnoxiously fast fists. Reed had flung them at him about a millisecond after the words had left his lips and Damien had barely enough time to dodge the hit before the next one came. A knee to the stomach later Damien was on the floor and Reed was standing over him with an angry face that could rival a fire demon. His fists were shaking at his side as Damien coughed and curled into a ball. His demeanor was was downright scary. Damien is either an idiot or the most prideful person on the planet because the next words out of his mouth were not an apology or an admittance of defeat.  
         “That all you got?” He spits from the floor, his eyes carrying only defiance.  
         Reed only smiles a cold smile, so different from the fiery gaze from earlier. When his foot came down over Damien’s chest it didn’t connect, instead Damien caught it and pulled. Reed fell to the floor, shock and pain on his face now. He landed with a grunt. Damien was quick to use Reed’s surprise to his advantage as he climbed on his back and twisted his arm back and around, successfully pinning him. A trick from the old hospital kerfuffle.  
Reed struggled under Damien but moving more than a little caused sharp pains up and down his arm. Damien said nothing until Reed stopped moving.  
          “Done yet, pretty boy?” he said mockingly, eliciting a growl from beneath him.  
          Damien dug his knees into Reed’s back and moved his arm up further, it was close to breaking now. Reed grunted in pain but otherwise said nothing. Reed shuddered beneath him and his breathing came in short bursts. Damien honestly couldn’t care whether or not Reed was in pain but he had better things to do than sit on the prideful boy. He settled in his mind that this was not what he wanted to do all night and so he did what any teenage boy would do. He got up and left.  
It was definitely time for a shower, he thought.

<>

          When Damien finally got off of him he considered going after him and teaching him a lesson on being an ass. Then he realized he was also at fault. He was being a total ass too, he didn’t have to go in for the punch and he certainly didn’t have to try and use his magic against Damien. He sat there and pondered this, his mistake in doing that, why he was here, why he had to mess it all up. Gods this was a bad week, hell, a bad few months, two times has he hit this kid, the first time was on accident but the second was fully intentional. He had meant to hurt him.  
          He raised himself off the floor and deposited his aching body onto one of the beds. He hoped it wasn’t Damien’s, clearly couldn’t control himself near him. His outburst was certainly proof of this and the residual anger cemented it. Reed felt remorse too but not as much as he felt anger.  
          The brand on his chest flashed and pain flared through his torso, crawling like fire over his skin. It seized through his lungs and clenched his heart. When he had made a pact to save his brother he didn’t think it would be like this. He thought the demon would just kill him and it would be over with but as he lay curled into a fetal position and breathing hard, he wanted to take it back. He wanted to take it all back, he wanted to be free of this rage and pain.  
His hand clenched at his shirt. Tears spilled down his cheeks. It was all cracking his usually calm demeanor, the fights, his brother, this stupid dorm, and his stupid roommate, which was feeding the demon inside him and in turn fueling his own anger and despair. It was a horrible, painful cycle. The tremors and shockwaves of pain slowly stopped until only a low pulsating heat remained. He took long shuddering breaths, tears making salty tracks down his face.  
He slowly uncurled and layed out on the bed with one arm over his blotchy eyes and the other fisted in the fabric over the intricate carving in his flesh, fresh blood welled from it.  
His eyes close as he falls into a fitful slumber, dreams plagued by the smell of blood and sulphur.

<>

         Damien took a long shower, careful to wash the grime and other unknown substances from under his finger nails. The hot water relaxed his sore muscles. As it cascaded down his back he let out a sigh, it had been a long few days. His fight with Reed left a new bruise blossoming over his stomach. The dark, mottled, reddish-purple spot was tender and hurt when he brushed over it with the soap. Reed must’ve done a number on him.  
What a jerk, thought Damien. He was only messing with him, maybe he was half troll? Perhaps half red cap judging by how much his new bruise hurt. Metal feet would explain a few things, like how Reed tended to stomp instead of walk like a normal person.           This would be a long year if he had to stick with this motley crew for the entire year.  
         “così è la vita, I suppose” he grumbled through the torrent of warm water.  
         He finished his shower and toweled off, stopping to look in the mirror. His eyes were tired, the right green and the left was a strange gold color. His caramel-colored hair was still wet as it flopped into his eyes. His skin was paler than the usual tan, except, of course, for the bruise circling his eye and the one over his solar plexus. The spattering of silver scars over his arms and chest draws his attention. The largest drew his eye and before he could look away the ghosts hit him.  
The smell of burning flesh and the tang of blood filled the air. There was a woman behind him, a horrible visage of a woman. A woman that had become an abomination. He turned and the apparition from his past was gone. All that was left in its place was the phantom pain from his scar and Damien’s ragged breaths. It was all in his head but that didn’t make him feel any better about it.  
         After he dressed himself at a feverish pace he shot out of the bathroom, frantic to get away from the impromptu mirage. He walked the halls in a depleted stupor until he reached his room. He opened it quietly, not wanting to start another fight with his roommate. The room was just as he left it except for his unconscious rival being in his bed. Damien inwardly groaned, he had already made that one and it had all his blankets under the school provided one. He approached his bed, fully intent on dumping Reed onto the floor but saw him sleeping fitfully and decided it would be better to let him stew in his nightmares.  
         Damien made the other bed and lied down. He looked at the window at the head of his bed, spotting constellations and letting the calm of the night pull him into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

       Reed woke up to the sound of snoring. Damien was obnoxious in his sleep too it seemed. Reed groaned quietly and sat up, his brand aching from the night’s earlier debacle, the demon whispering horrible things at the back of his mind. He rubbed his temples, still tired, but too awake to go back to sleep. He decided he might as well do something productive and if not that, then at least something interesting. He just had to get out of this room, filled with the sickly sweet smell of cotton candy and the ozone smell of a storm. The spell smells mingled and combined making a smell that made him want to rip everything to pieces, the demon intertwined in his soul was goading this feeling and sending a sliver of pain through his very core.  
       He left the room in a hurry after grabbing his coat. Not quite sure where he would go, he went up, up to the roof. It was quiet up there and the stars were out. He was so mesmerised by the cosmic beauty he almost forgot about his damning deal and his new hectic living situation. He looked up at the astral bodies, connecting the dots in old constellations and some of his own. Naming the stars by their given names and then when he found he didn’t know one he made up something interesting. The demon in his head was barely a whisper in the calm and cool night.  
       He sat up there for hours, on the ledge of the building, watching the stars disappear into the rays of the dawn. He sat there longer still, waiting to see if anyone had noticed he had gone. If Damien had noticed his absence he hadn’t come looking for him. Reed sat there a little longer, just until the cold nip of dawn left the air. That had been pretty okay, he thought. Then he got up and went back inside.

<>

  
       Damien woke up to the sound of banging at the door his shared room. Groggily he got up and made his way to the door, stopping to lower his shirt from where it had ridden up and straighten his rat’s nest of hair. He yawned and opened the door to the cold face of Mrs. Acema. He almost shut the door but her face said that if he even thought of it, he would be publicly flogged. He resigned to his fate having to deal with her at eight-some-odd in the morning. He yawned again and grimaced.  
       “Good morning Mr. Cirillo, I am here to check up on you,” leaving no room for the sleepy teen to actually reply, she continued,  
       “Today is your last day before you begin classes with me.” she frowned, but honestly it wasn’t that surprising anymore. Damien was starting to think she only had two facial expressions, the ‘frigid bitch’ and that gods-forsaken frown.  
       “Where is Mr. Reed?” she says in a tone that was annoyingly close to accusation.  
       It was his turn to frown now.  
       “I have no idea, if you’ll excuse me I have to go back to sleep” he says and yawns again, he slowly tries to shut the door but her foot is in the way.  
       “Listen here Mr. Cirillo, you two are a team now. If you don’t find him by tomorrow I swear to all the power vested in me by the mage state, I will hunt you both down, personally, and throw you into the deepest darkest prison I can find. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Cirillo?” she says while keeping direct eye contact.  
       Damien blanches and swallows weakly. He nods his assent, all the thoughts of sleep gone from his mind, instead they were replaced by feelings of abject terror. This woman was force of nature. Her eyes were glaciers, her words boulders that crushed him under their weight. It was much too early for this.  
       She gave him a look of finality and then turned to go. Her heels clicked on her way down the hall, sounding like the pendulum on the countdown clock to his imminent demise. If he had known it was her then he wouldn’t have opened the door, but as they say, hindsight is 20/20.  
       Damien lets out heavy sigh and resigns himself to his fate.

<>

  
       If Damien were an normal person he might be snappish after being woken up so early and unfortunately for everyone involved, he was. He walks the hallway in an angry shuffle, grumbling obscenities about his roommate. His hair is messy but presentable, he changed but didn’t shower, and brushed his teeth but didn’t floss. To be honest though, who really flosses, he thinks as he rubs the morning grit out of his eyes.  
Damien meanders across the second floor, slowly waking up and stomach growling. His thoughts consist of: food, sleep, and destroying his roommate when he finds him.

<>

  
      Reed walks across the lawn of his new impromptu and unappreciated housing, if you could call it that. He moves fast, trying to get past the wards without encountering other humans, or other assorted beings. The fresh cut grass smells wonderful and the light breeze playing through the trees is lovely. He slows his pace to a reasonable gait to watch the young dryads playing tag in the budding deciduous trees. Their pastel green skin looked almost translucent in the light of the sun.  
He sees the edge of the wards sparkling faintly near a pair of towering oaks. Reed smiles and lets his magic shimmer onto his skin as he leaves the wards, the smell of rain coming into form. A great burst of bright blue flame leaps out of his hands, slithering through the air like a snake and swirling into a rough circle. I’m getting better at making portals, he thinks, then steps through.  
      He steps into a large glade that is ringed by towering trees, oaks, maples, pines. Everything is a beautiful emerald color as the sunlight bounces about.  
      “Amelie!” he calls  
      A shuffling in the nearby bushes tells him she heard his call.  
     “Amelie, come out, please” he calls again. Another rustle but nothing else. He waits a moment or two.  
     “Amelie, you absolute child!” He Yells. He hoped the teasing might bring her out.  
     “Could you ple-”  
     His tall form was suddenly toppled by a small but bulky woman. She was rather squat with a moss covered face and brown skin that twisted and bunched like gnarled old roots. Her hair was like lichen and her eyes like emeralds.  
He grumbled as he tried to push her off, her maple wood body unnaturally heavy. She let out a laugh that sounded like the leaves rustling and stood.  
      “For someone who comes to learn silence, you are much too loud” Amelie said, her voice like scratching bark.  
      Reed frowned and stood, dusting himself off.  
      “I came for control, not silence.”  
      “Controlling what you have is simply learning how to ignore it. In essence to find silence from it.”  
      He shuffled a bit, frown deepening. It’s not simple at all, he thought, or I wouldn’t need help from a forest spirit. A particularly grouchy one at that. A motherly smile grew on her wizened face, as if she could read his mind.  
     “Synek, your magic is so revealing, if learning this were easy then I would have left it to the humans. Be patient, you will succeed”  
     Reed guffawed at her words, his obvious disbelief showing on his face.  
     “ Let’s just get this over with” he said wearily.  
     Amelie smiled and snapped. Her magic spread through the clearing, touching the trees and other things, silence encompassed them.

<>

  
     Damien sighed as he sat down in the room he assumed was the mess hall. As per usual it was the unfortunate green of every other part of his new dorm. The cool bench squeaked loudly when he moved, fueling his agitation. His roommate was a grade-A-prick and was apparently adept at leaving at inopportune times. Perhaps he was kidnapped, or died. He smiled as the horrible events unfolded in his head, each scenario more ridiculous than the last.  
Birds squawked outside the large windows and interrupt his imaginary cinema of untimely deaths and impressive levels of disfigurement.  
     “You’d think after our bonding moment he’d be more friendly” he said to himself sarcastically.  
     “Bonding moment, eh?” an unknown voice says from behind him.  
     Damien whipped around to face the speaker. A girl stands there. She had at least five scarves of varying color and pattern, layered over a t-shirt with unicorns on it. Her arms were barely visible from the numerous bangles lining her wrists. She wore a look of absolute amusement.  
     Damien frowned, he didn’t hear her come in or pick up a spell smell from her. He was mildly interested.  
     She puts her hands on her hips, jangling her many bracelets. Damien’s magic hums protectively as she walks another step towards him smiling crookedly. A few more steps and she’s less than a foot away, he was frozen, his muscles clenched in the anticipation of a fight.  
     Her grin only widens.  
     “You look like you’re wound tighter than a tick’s ass” she laughed.  
     Some of the tension left him when she started giggling, every other giggle a southern tinted exclamation of hilarity over his expression. Her heavy accent somehow endearing despite the vaguely insulting things she was saying. Her eyes crinkled a bit around the edges too, he noticed.  
     “My name’s Gypsy, what’s yours, darlin’?” she says extending her hand to shake. He takes it.  
     “Damien, a pleasure” sarcasm dripped in his voice but she only smiled, her lovely green eyes mirroring the mirth so clearly displayed in her smile. He took a liking to her despite her strange introduction earlier.  
     “I really need to go hon, so if you could let go of my hand that would be lovely.” he snapped out of his thought processes and let go. She smiled once more then left. Strange, he thought.  
     The meeting left him in a strangely neutral mood, not quite happy but not quite unhappy, a sort of emotional middleground. His thoughts were somewhere between slaughtering his roommate and unicorns. Perhaps he could get the unicorn to shank Reed. Twice, maybe more, he was still waffling on that. Sirens might be more interesting though, killed by his own libido, a terrible yet hilarious bit of irony. He looked out the window at the green trees, watched the dryads and wondered if he could convince one to trip Reed on one of their tree’s roots.  
      He didn’t actually want him dead, just maimed or grievously hurt. Damien sighed and continued his search. The feeling of futility dragged itself into his thoughts.

<>

      His breath cane harsh as the darkness of the murky forest swirled around him. A snap of a branch to his left, a growl from his left. Above him something crawled through the upper branches of the trees and rustled the leaves. Panic flared in him. Fear coiled low in his belly, his body shook with adrenaline.  
      He knew this wasn’t real but it felt real, the inhuman noises hissing in his ears, the leaves drifting down, kissing his face, the snap of branches cutting through the silence. The noises got closer and more urgent, he tried to maintain his composure. The sounds got louder and more in number, he tried not to move. His composure was slipping and he could only stand this so long. So he sat.  
      In a cross-legged position Reed breathed deep and closed his eyes, letting his magic spread out like a blanket around him. The magic slid across his skin like rain drops. The inky blackness slunk back from his bubble of magic and his spell smell filled the small space. It comforted him in this faux forest. His breaths came slower with each downpour of magic slowly spreading out around him. A voice cut through the dark.  
      “Rest now Synek, you did well”  
      A different kind of darkness took him, not oily or cold but soft and warm. Sleep.  
      He woke up in the clearing in the woods. Stars were shining through the canopy of leaves and he wondered how long he’d been here, time was different where Amelie was. It shifted like young saplings in a summer breeze or distorted like ripples in a pond.  
      It was warm there, not uncomfortably so. Crickets chirped and bats flapped overhead. He flashed back to the most recent mind game he and Amelie played and suddenly the forest felt less hospitable. His magic buzzed under his skin, lighting up his nerves and making his skin crawl. The demon was quiet in his waking mind. He sighed in relief and called out for Amelie.

<>

      Damien had left his neutral state of mind and devolved into a more anger driven mindset. His thoughts consisted of curses and torture methods. If he ever found Reed he swore he would destroy him. Limb by limb, atom by atom, he wouldn’t be anything more than a grease spot on the floor of the ugly green housing, Damien thought.  
      He walked down the lone corridor he found himself in, silently contemplating where he might find Reed. The roof was too cliche, the building itself was too mundane, the campus was mostly off-limits. Which narrowed the hiding place of his least favorite leather jacket wearing bastard to anywhere but where he had been looking. Perfect, he thought, I don’t even get to fail my classes properly before Mrs. Acema kicks me out.  
      At this point he didn’t feel like denying the inevitable and instead of looking for Reed he started to meander for his own pleasure. He passed mountains of cobwebs, what he swears was a haunted broom closet, a classroom that looked like it had seen better days. He walked for at least an hour more before he found what could be his new favorite place. A greenhouse filled to the brim with pots and tables and tools, it was a perfect place to sit and think. It held possibility.  
He sat in the greenhouse for a while, thinking, reading a book he found about magical plants and regular herbs for medicinal use, trying to ignore the imminent threat of Acema if he didn’t find stupid Reed. The sun was still bright and high in the sky. He still had time to find Reed but the thought of leaving this new found haven was heinous. He was enjoying this uneasily found place. He was enjoying the warm air, the earthy smell, the bright light.

      His hands drifted idly through pots of strange golden soil and, feather light, brushing against the panes of glass. They came away dirty but he didn’t mind. Damien, in his exploration, found a few strange things, glowing mushrooms in the far back of an offshoot of the greenhouse, a silver tool embedded with luminous purple jewels and fiery red ones that catch the light, and small green shoots of an unknown plant that gently hum a low note when touched. He was covered in soil and other miscellaneous particulates when he finally left.

<>

  
      Amelie, happy with his progress, made him an herbal tea to take with him. He was honestly not sure what any of her strange berry herbals do but they taste like home. The crisp tartness of apple and blackberry, accented by the taste of cloves, cinnamon, and the slightest sweetness from woodland honey. Most of all the tea was always warm and aromatic. It calmed him, even if it was only psychosomatic.  
      It was morning now, sun dappling through the trees. The fae had come out to play in the little clearing, sprites flew through the air and the smell of raspberries lingered, brownies ran about picking up leaves, and moss maidens came out of their cross marked, warded trees to prance in the light. Reed breathed deep as the sound of the tinkling faeries mixed with the gentle singing of a Huldra.  
     Amelie sat contentedly on a stump a few feet away humming an old tune of her people, gently sipping her woodland tea from her wooden cup. He sat on the grass by a patch of bluebells that swayed slightly with the light breeze. A gentle smile played on his face. He let his magic slip over his skin, running down in rivulets of powder blue that glowed faintly. They dissipated before they hit the ground and puffed up into gray wisps of cloud.  
He rose to get more tea and to see if he can convince her to give him some of the mix for later. She gave him a mossen bag filled with the mix.

     The cold feeling of the portal always lingered, he thought. As he stepped onto the campus again he felt the strain of his magic, like it was unwilling to be controlled again by the wards. He breathed deep and imagined his magic as a storm cloud, tall and dark. Amelie said to imagine it as something tangible, something that could be controlled, harnessed, but always part of you. He imagined the cloud receding into the sky and the sun coming about. He felt the magic crawling under his skin start to settle.  
He continued onto the path back to the ramshackle building, waving to the dryads resting in the mid-afternoon sun, soaking in the warm summer air and breathing in the sweet smell of lavender. He thought of mundane things, swimming, climbing trees, standing in the pouring rain. When he hit the wards he started to hum under his breath, gently tapping a hand on his thigh as a beat.  
     He reached the dormitory just in time to hear a litany of curses and a loud thunk. Reed opened the door of the building to see Damien swiping vainly at pixies that were trying to burrow into his tangle of hair. The urge to turn and walk out was strong but he felt bad for the pixies Damien disturbed. He walked past the threshold and into the pixie swarm. They fluttered around him like butterflies, cursing in their tinkling little language. He moved past them to right the fallen vase, decorated in little blue flowers and a wreath of poppies. The vase was most definitely a fae portal and how Damien didn’t know that was absolutely ridiculous, parents taught children not to bother the fae before they could talk.  
     Reed moved on, not his problem, he thought. He’d feel guilty about it later but right now it felt good just to watch Damien try vainly to disentangle the small fae. Life was too short not to enjoy the small things. The demon symbol gave a small sting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long but here you go! It's real short but it's fun.

          At noon Damien got back to the dorm, covered in tiny scratches and miscellaneous detritus. Reed wasn’t there, probably a good thing, if he was Damien might throttle him. Who leaves their roommate in that position? Sure he knew he could be a dick sometimes but there should be some feeling of camaraderie, if only spawned the sheer force of Mrs. Acema’s will. As he picked the shards of glass from one of the unfortunate panes in the hallway, he contemplated revenge. Fire? Pitchforks? Pitchforks on fire.

All of that was too much energy. He was way too tired from the marathon of getting away from the unfairly fast flying pixies. He could barely form coherent thoughts past ‘pitchfork stabby’ and ‘sleepy’ as he fell into the bed that was supposed to be his. It smelled kind of nice, weird. His jumbled brain barely registered when the door opened and a girl entered. Girl? How come everyone could come into his room but he can’t go to others, he questioned silently. Whatever, it was just gypsy anyway and pretty girls were definitely welcome in his room.

           “How are you darlin’, I saw what happened with the pixies…” she paused, “and the window”

          Never mind, no girls allowed.

          “I brought some pain meds” her voice dipped as she reached into one of her many pockets.

          Maybe girl allowed.

          She brought out a small bottle and shook a few of the supposed meds out. She also produced a slightly dented metal cup from her strangely not-full-looking bag. Gypsy gestured her hand around the rim and a tiny funnel of water swirling above it appeared, funneling into the cup when Gypsy felt there was enough water.

          She gestured lightly for him to take the cup after dumping the ‘meds’ into it and swishing it about in the cup. He honestly didn’t hurt at all but it seemed rude to refuse her strange, possibly, magical drugs. However, the rational part of his sleepy lizard brain said, for all he knew it was crystal meth, he did only just meet her. Oh well, he thought. “I’m here for a good time not a long time” he said under his breath then took the cup and chugged it. It tasted a bit bitter and spicy and had a strange gritty texture at the end.

          “It’s a new blend I thought might help, it has chamomile and cayenne so it should help with the pain and swelling.” She said, having to take breath before she continued, “it also has cinnamon bark”

          That would explain the gritty texture, she hadn’t ground it up well enough.


End file.
